Swept Away

by Candace Camp

  “You are a fine one to condemn my morals!” Julia snapped. “What were you doing in that carriage or at Vauxhall Gardens? Holding off my rapacious advances like the saint you are?” Her mouth curled in contempt. “That’s just like a man, to try his best to seduce you and then blame you because he was tempted. You would not have been so vulnerable, would you, if you had not been a libertine!”

  “There is some difference, madam, between being swept away by desire and cold-bloodedly plotting to ensnare someone. The latter person has no heart.”

  “But you do? What a bald-faced lie. You have no compassion, no feeling, no heart. You are the sort of person who would coolly stand on the bank and watch a person drown rather than get your clothes wet.”

  His eyebrows lifted at the venom in her voice. “Indeed? And how did you, who know me not at all, manage to come up with that assessment of my character?”

  Julia stopped, nonplussed. She had been so carried away by her anger that she had almost been to the point of revealing who she was and why she had done what she did. That, she was sure, would have been a mistake, perhaps even a fatal one. She had kept her mouth shut about her identity because she did not want to embroil her family in another scandal. It occurred to her now that it was probably safest in other ways, too, not to let on who she was. Stonehaven would not be pleased to learn that anyone suspected him of committing the crime he had blamed on Selby. He might even decide that he had better make sure she didn’t go around spreading her suspicions to others.

  “I know men of your type,” she said sullenly, and lapsed into silence again.

  “Let us return to the subject at hand—your accomplices. Since you seem to have such difficulty in talking about them, why don’t we start with the easiest one, the man who knocked me over the head. Who is he? You called him Nunnelly—a relation? Or is your name false, as well?”

  “He is no relation. And neither of us is named Nunnelly. ’Twas a name that, uh, we came up with to hide our identities.”

  “What is his true name?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Come, come, you don’t know your own accomplices’ names?”

  “Only his first name—’tis Fred. I never heard him called anything else.”

  “And the other?”

  “What other?”

  “There were two of them the times they tried to kidnap me before.”

  “Oh. That was Will. He cried off after that last attempt—no stomach for hitting people, you see.”

  “And your leader?”

  Julia rolled her eyes and was silent.

  “You might as well tell me, you know. I am a patient man. I’m quite willing to stay here until you tell me the truth—or until you tell the constable.”

  “You won’t turn me over to any constable,” Julia said with more confidence than she felt. “Then you would never find out about that other man—and I think you would be very interested.”

  “Indeed? Why is that?” His face remained cool and blank, but Julia could see the flare of interest in his eyes.

  She shrugged and slipped into the accent of one of the upstairs maids. “Well, sir, it might be because the one what ’ired me—aye, and taught me to talk fancy, too—is one of your own.”

  “My own?”

  “That’s right. I was just a poor girl, working in a tavern, I was, when this gentry sort, a lot like you, come in. After I got off work, he said to me, ‘Jessie, me lass, ’ow would you like to come with me and make a lot of money?’ ’Course I was willing. ’Oo wouldn’t be, I ask you. So he takes me up in his fancy curricle and drives me back to this grand ’ouse. There’s a woman there, see, ’oo teaches me ’ow to talk like gentry.” Julia abandoned her accent for the moment, asking in a grande dame manner, “She did a splendid job, don’t you think?”

  “Splendid,” Stonehaven agreed dryly.

  “And ’e bought me lots of byootiful clothes, like the dresses I been wearin’, and she taught me ’ow to walk and sit and all, without slouchin’ or lettin’ me back touch the chair. Was proper exhausting, it was.”

  “No doubt. What was the object of all this tiresome education?”

  “Why, to trap you, of course. What else? ’E says, ‘I’ll get that’—well, ’e called you a word me dad would ’a switched me proper if I’d said. That gentry fellow ’as a powerful dislike for you.”

  “What is this gentry fellow’s name?”

  “I don’t know. ’E told me to call him Andrew, so that’s wot I did, but I don’t think it was ’is real name. She, the lady wot taught me, she always called ’im ‘my lord.”’

  “Why did he hold such a ‘powerful dislike’ for me?”

  “Well, ’e didn’t say, exactly, but once he said that you was a thief.” Julia watched him closely.

  “A thief!” He raised one eyebrow. “And what was I supposed to have stolen?”

  “I’m not rightly sure,” Julia said, then added pertly, “’Ave you stolen so much that you don’t know which thing ’e’s talkin’ about?”

  Stonehaven sighed. “You are a most dedicated liar, and you’re talking a bag of moonshine, as we both know. I have never stolen anything from anyone, and I doubt sincerely that there is any gentleman who harbors such ill will toward me that he would spend the time and the ready grooming you to seduce me. The accent, the walk, the demeanor—those were not things learned in a few weeks’ study in some mystery lord’s house. I daresay it took you years to acquire them. In fact, I am rather inclined to believe that you were raised speaking and acting that way. My surmise is that you are some well-bred girl who was wild from the time she was young and who probably disgraced her family by running away with her dance tutor—or perhaps a traveling troupe of actors.”

  “You have a fascination with actors, haven’t you?” Julia asked. “Why is that, I wonder?”

  “Dammit!” He turned away, slamming his hand down on the small table beside the bed so hard that the oil lamp on it wobbled. “You are the coolest bit of muslin I ever saw! Nothing rattles you, does it? Seduction, kidnapping, being caught red-handed—certainly not lying! That, it seems, is what you do best.”

  “Oh, I do many things well,” Julia responded calmly. She was not sure exactly why she had such an urge to goad Stonehaven, when all sense told her that it would be better to try to calm his seething rage. All she knew was that it was her last weapon against him, and she was not going to go down without a fight.

  He snorted. “I am sure you do, no doubt most of them in bed. However, I have no interest in sampling your wares tonight. If you think to seduce me into letting you go, you are fair and far off.”

  “I wouldn’t think of it. The thought of your touch sickens me, quite frankly. Indeed, it was all I could do to stand to let you embrace me, no matter how much money I was going to get.”

  “Then you are indeed a marvelous actress, my girl,” he snapped, jaw tightening. “I have never before met a woman who could flush with heat on cue or cause her nipples to pebble or soak her pantalets with—”

  Julia vaulted off the bed with an inarticulate cry of rage. Had she not been tied up, she would have flown at him, biting and clawing. As it was, with her ankles bound, she could not maintain her balance after her impetuous jump off the bed, and she fell heavily.

  He let out an oath and strode over to her, bending down to pick her up. “Are you mad? Whatever possessed you to do such a thing?”

  Julia had knocked the wind from herself in the fall, as well as hurting one arm and hip and getting a crack on her head that had made her eyes water, so it took her a moment to speak. By that time the fury had subsided, and she was able to say coldly, “I wanted to kill you.”

  “The truth hurts, doesn’t it?”

  She turned a flat gaze upon him. “Is it the truth? You speak of physical reactions caused by certain actions, sir. Any person could doubtless cause them. I spoke of emotions. If you were so sure that I enjoyed your kisses and caresses, then I doubt you would be quite so enra
ged by the thought of my ‘using’ them to trap you. Now would you?”

  She was rewarded by the tiny flare of anger in his eyes, quickly suppressed. He did not reply to her, merely picked her up once again and set her on the bed.

  He untied her cloak and removed it, hanging it on a hook by the door. Then he squatted down in front of her and took her feet in his, removing each of her shoes.

  A shiver ran through Julia at the touch of his hands on her feet, and she snapped, “What are you doing?”

  “Taking off your shoes…unless you prefer to sleep in them?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “It is obvious that we are getting nowhere. Hopefully, if you sleep on it, you will be more cooperative in the morning. I can assure you that I, at least, will be in a better humor for a night’s sleep.”

  “You expect me to sleep like this?” Julia held out her bound hands.

  “I don’t remember your worrying excessively over whether I could sleep—or even sit comfortably—with my arms and legs bound to that chair.”

  Julia could not mask the guilt that touched her face at his words, and he said, faintly surprised, “Ah, so that arrow went home, did it?”

  “I—I did not want to hurt you.” She thought that she must sound as if she were begging his pardon, which she would not do, so she lifted her chin and looked him defiantly in the eye. “But I did not shrink from it. Your comfort was not a consideration.”

  “Obviously. However, I find I haven’t as hard a heart as you.”

  To her astonishment, he began to undo the knot that bound her ankles. “I trust,” he said, “that you will not take it into your head to flee for the door. It is locked, and I would easily catch you. Then I would have to tie your ankles up again, forgetting all about mercy.”

  He took the rope that had bound her ankles and tied it to one of her wrists, just above the rope that held her hands together.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Allowing you a bit of movement—without letting you have the freedom to get into trouble, as you no doubt would, being the most troublesome female I have ever met.” He led her to the foot of the bed and tied the other end of the rope to the bedpost closest to the wall. “Now I shall untie your hands, with the same warning. If you start to fight or try to untie yourself, I shall bind you up again in a trice, and I think you will find it infinitely more awkward.”

  Julia nodded her understanding. She refused to thank him.

  He untied her hands, and Julia could not hold back a sigh of relief. Unconsciously she rubbed the red marks on each wrist. Stonehaven looked down at her wrists. His jaw clenched, and he turned away abruptly.

  “There are the conveniences,” he said, gesturing toward the wall, where a washbasin and pitcher stood ready on a table, towels hanging on the lyre-shaped chair back. Next to it was a plain brown wooden commode, in which was hidden, Julia knew, a chamber pot.

  She could not help but feel a rush of gratitude toward Stonehaven, and she remembered with even more guilt that she had shown him none of the same consideration.

  He walked toward the door, saying, “I shall go outside for a few moments. Since I am quite good at tying knots, I shouldn’t waste my time, if I were you, trying to undo the one that binds you to the bedpost.”

  “I shall not endeavor to flee,” Julia said. “Not now, I mean, though I won’t guarantee for the future.”

  He turned and shot her a quizzical look, brows raised. Julia gazed back at him pugnaciously, hands on hips. “There’s no need to look like that. I give you my word!”

  “Ah, and I am sure I consider your word a bond,” he replied ironically.

  The gratitude Julia had been feeling toward him disappeared, and she glared at him. “Go on, then! Think whatever you like!”

  He bowed toward her in a sardonic way and left the room. She noticed that he took the key with him and locked the door. She grimaced toward the blank door and stuck her tongue out. Then she turned to avail herself of the opportunity he had offered.

  She felt much better once she had used the facilities, awkward though it had been with one hand tied to the bedpost. It was not quite as uncomfortable to wash her hands and face, and she felt much relieved afterward. If only she had a brush, she thought, she would be able to feel almost satisfied. However, she did not have one, so she had to content herself with running her fingers through her hair to comb it. She had not put her hair back up after Deverel had had her take it down in the carriage, and it was, as a result, rather tangled.

  With a sigh, she sat down on the end of the bed to await Stonehaven’s return. She occupied herself by examining the rope around her wrist and the knot that kept it there, as well as the knot around the post of the bed. She had promised not to undo them at this time, but, she reasoned, she had not said she would not look at them for future reference. Depressingly, however, she could see that he was right in his assessment of his knot-tying ability. It would take her ages to undo the thing, if she was able to at all. The best recourse was a knife, but unfortunately, she did not happen to have one of those handy.

  It occurred to her to wonder how Lord Stonehaven had gotten out of his bonds back at the hut. She would have sworn that Nunnelly tied a sturdy knot. He must have used something to cut his way free—had he had a knife secreted about him that he had somehow managed to get to? She could not imagine how. He had probably used something there in the hut to cut it. She glanced around the room, wondering what object in here she might use. The only things she could find within reach were the washbasin and pitcher. Perhaps, if she broke one of them, the shards would be sharp enough that she could use one of them to cut through the rope. Tomorrow morning, she thought, she would not give any promise not to run, and she would see what she could do with broken pottery. She craned her neck to look out the nearest window, hoping that there might be a tree handy for climbing down. Unfortunately, it was too light inside to allow her to see anything out there.

  The door opened behind her, and she jumped guiltily and whirled around. She had been so busy looking that she had not listened for his footsteps in the hall.

  “No hope there,” Deverel told her with annoying good cheer. “I looked when I was outside. There are no trees or trellises or even a useful drainpipe. I fear it is a sheer drop straight down.”

  She gave him a quelling look and sat down on the bed, looking, she hoped, as indifferent and disdainful as a duchess. Stonehaven turned the key in the door, locking it. Julia noticed with some hope that he had left the key in the lock. She would be able to unlock the door—if only she could get free from this rope that bound her to the bed. He took off his jacket and hung it carefully over the back of the chair. Next he yanked off his cravat, much rumpled and disordered, and pulled his shirt out of his breeches. Julia wondered with a certain amount of horror if he planned to undress in front of her, but he removed nothing else except his shoes and stockings.

  He strolled over to the washstand and, rolling up his sleeves, began to wash his hands. Julia, seeing his wrists for the first time, let out a gasp. There were several streaks of dried blood on his wrists, particularly the left one. She saw now, too, that there were streaks of blood on his shirtsleeves.

  “What?” He looked up at the noise she made.

  “Your arms.” She pointed. “What happened? Why are they bloody?”

  He glanced down at them as if a little surprised to see the blood there. “That’s where I cut free of the rope. That’s why I had only those short lengths of rope. I couldn’t untie them, the way your friend bound me, so I had to cut them loose.”

  “But with what?” Julia felt a little sick, looking at the jagged cuts that decorated his flesh.

  “The chimney of the lamp you left. I worked the chair over to it, pulled off the chimney and broke it.”

  Julia turned away, feeling guilty. But she hadn’t expected him to go to such lengths to free himself! How could she have known that he would be so stubborn and recalcitrant? After al
l, she had not set out to hurt him, she reasoned, shoving aside the thought that she had intended to hit him over the head from the very start. Anyway, he was the enemy, she reminded herself; she could not allow herself to be softhearted about his hurts.

  Stonehaven looked at her consideringly for a moment, then returned to washing his face and hands. When he was through, he went to the bed and turned down the covers. Julia, watching him, said with some asperity, “Do you plan to leave me standing here all night?”

  “I might point out that it is no worse than you deserve. However, that is not my intention.”

  He came around to the end of the bed and, to her surprise, began to work at the knot that tied the rope to the bedpost. She assumed that he intended to bind her hands together again, and she sighed at the thought of trying to sleep that way. However, to her surprise, he did not wrap the rope around her other wrist, but tied it instead to one of his own wrists. She gaped at him.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Ensuring that you do not try to escape during the night. I assume you realize that even a heavy sleeper would awaken if you tried to untie this rope. Since I am not accounted a heavy sleeper…”

  “But that means that you and I—” She glanced toward the bed, then back at him, and a blush started in her cheeks.

  “Yes, we shall have to sleep together. Don’t worry about your precious virtue.” He gave the words a sarcastic emphasis that reminded her of how little he regarded her virtue as a precious commodity. “I believe I already made it clear that I lost all desire to bed you once I discovered what you were.” He executed a little bow, saying, “Like you, I shall give you my word that I will not molest you.”

  Julia sniffed. “Then I must say that, like you, I place little credence in your word. It seems to me that honesty deserts a man when it comes to getting a woman into bed.”

  He raised a brow. “I assure you that at this point I am interested in nothing but sleep. However, if you care to sleep on the floor, I am sure that I could rebind your hands and attach them to the bedpost.”